It Takes One
by xyvortex
Summary: A strange boy is found unconscious on Hogwarts grounds and taken into the school. Having no memory, he is enrolled by the headmaster, begins first year classes and befriends a young Tom Riddle. Crossover fic,
1. Rebirth

It Takes One...

Weight, the gentle pressure of his body against a soft surface was the first sensation he'd consciously felt. Though it was a good feeling, it felt oddly foreign; it was as if it was something he hadn't experienced in a very long time. Even the feeling of crisp sheets against his skin felt wrong, but he couldn't explain how. The next thing he noticed was the voices.

There were two people in the room with him, wherever he was. They were talking in low voices, but from what he could hear, they were speaking in some language he'd never heard before. One voice he recognised as from a human male of advanced age, the other a young woman. He lay quietly, listening for some clue as to where he was. He half expected to hear a deep but almost inaudible thrum that he felt had been a constant companion to him for years, or strange sounds that he couldn't identify. Instead, the room was filled with a silence that almost seemed unnatural.

As he listened, he tried to glean anything from their tone that might tell him something. They seemed agitated, concerned about something, possibly him. After all, if they were strangers to him, then it was likely he was a stranger to them as well. Abruptly, the two voices halted their conversation and he could almost feel their eyes on him. Moments later near silent footsteps approached his bed and stopped on either side of him.

Opening his eyes, he found two robed figures standing over him. The female, a plain, matronly woman in white, had both an expression and attitude that screamed 'healer', while the male, a balding old man with an air of authority, was obviously her superior. With a kindly expression, the man placed a hand on one of his own and spoke again in the alien tongue.

He stared stupidly at the old man, seemingly because he didn't understand him (which he didn't). It was more than that, however. He'd actually _felt_ the man's hand on his. That hadn't happened in... The shock of it had him looking down at his own hands, small pale things, that of a child of no more than eleven or twelve. They were completely free of blemish or scarring, only having callouses to show he was no stranger to manual labour.

He was so absorbed in the study of hands that he couldn't identify as his own, that he entirely missed the old man pulling out a small wooden stick. He only looked up as the man flourished it and loudly pronounced, "_Reddo Lingua."_

The boy felt something _shift_ in the old man's presence and channel through the stick to him. He felt it change something else inside him and he became light headed for a moment.

"Can you understand me now, my boy?" asked the old man.

At first the boy didn't answer, not because he didn't understand, but because while the old man was still speaking in the strange alien language, the meaning was still perfectly clear to him. Noticing the slight frown of impatience on the old man's face, the boy quickly gave a slight nod.

"Wonderful," exclaimed the old man. "First, let me introduce myself. I am Professor Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Motioning to the woman at his side, Dippet continued, "This young lass is Madame Hardy, our resident healer. You are currently in our hospital wing, as you were found unconscious by one of the professors at the edge of the lake."

Taking a seat at the bedside, the headmaster glanced over his half-moon glances at his guest. "The question still remains, however, as to your identity and the means by which you find yourself on school grounds."

"I – " the boy began in a voice that wasn't his own, or at least hadn't been for a very long time. "I don't know," he answered quietly. "I can't remember."

A pensive look crossed the headmasters face as he regarded the boy, but an amused grin replaced it as he proclaimed, "It's not unheard of for someone to lose their memory from time to time, luckily we have madame Hardy here to help us find it."

Standing, Professor Dippet continued, "Until such a time as you remember yourself, we need something to call you – Andrew perhaps."

Rolling the suggested name around in his mind, the boy thought that while it wasn't truly his name, it would do for now. Nodding his assent to the headmaster, Andrew answered, "Thank you sir."

A twinkle came to the old man's eyes at the boy's response, "It's settled then; while you're recovering your memory we'll have you sorted and started in first year classes as soon as Laurel gives you a pass to leave the hospital wing."

"Classes?" Andrew asked in confusion.

"Why of course," Professor Dippet affirmed. "The mere fact that you found yourself on school grounds attests to your having magical talent. As you are obviously a minor, and know nothing of our world, it falls to us to educate you in our ways and to harness your magic."

"Magic," Andrew muttered. "I'm sorry, I don't know what that is exactly."

Sighing, and giving the young boy an understanding look, Professor Dippet answered, "I see a short explanation is in order. Magic is a part of the world around us, it resides in all things. It is the binding force of our very existence, and properly harnessed, it can do almost anything. Of human kind there are two sets of people: Wizards, who are able to tap into and manipulate magic, and Muggles, people who cannot. Hogwarts is a school created over a thousand years ago to teach wizards to use their ability."

"It flows through us," Andrew whispered to himself, feeling some vague recognition of the concept as the headmaster went on. "Its energy surrounds us and binds us." He knew this, or something like it, but not by that name. The professor went on a bit more about the nature of magic until he was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn from Andrew.

"I see that you're still recovering from your arrival," the headmaster commented merrily. "Either that, or I'm not the engaging teacher I once was. I'll be back in the morning, we have some texts and other materials that we'll gather for you to use, you'll still need robes and a wand I think."

"Thank you," Andrew muttered sleepily. "I don't have any money though."

"Don't worry," Professor Dippet answered, "We have a fund for needy students that will cover the costs. Now get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow getting you settled in."

Andrew lay back and relaxed against the pillow. This place seemed odd and confusing, but comfortable in a way. The headmaster's talk of magic intrigued him, it was familiar somehow and he wanted to hear more about it. With all these things running about his head, the boy lay back and forced himself to fall asleep.

Slumber came easily enough, but with it came dreams, odd, somewhat frightening dreams full of murky figures and distant screams. Out of the mist, he heard a voice, older, but one he identified as his own. "I will be the greatest of them all!" that voice faded then returned with a note of desperation in it. "I'll do anything to save her!" Andrew floated for an undetermined time before he heard an older voice, one full of compassion and love say, "I've got to save you!" to be answered by a broken and scratchy one, again that he recognised somehow as his own. "You already have – my son."

Again, Andrew found himself floating freely in the mist, though after a time it began to become stiflingly hot, turning into a vision of hell. He felt for the briefest moment, the feeling of flying before the memory of a horrible pain had him crashing to earth. Through the haze he could hear the voice of his mentor, his brother as it broke with the sound of one betrayed. "You were the chosen one, you were supposed to bring balance!"

With a gasp, the boy jerked upright in bed, soaked in sweat. Madame Hardy, who'd heard the boy thrashing about in the depths of a nightmare had come to his bedside and gently touched his shoulder.

"Andrew," she soothed. "It was only a nightmare, you're alright."

"No," he answered, his voice still unsteady with unspent emotion, "not Andrew, my name is Anakin."

xXx


	2. Mystery Child

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters are Property of JKR and Scholastic; Star Wars and all related characters are property of George Lucas. I own a cat.

It Takes One... Ch2 Mystery Child

The next morning, Professor Dippet, along with one of his most trusted staff members, walked toward the hospital wing as they discussed their newest guest. The younger wizard, an auburn haired man with twinkling blue eyes, listened sympathetically as the headmaster recounted the previous evening's conversation.

"Physically he's much recovered from when you found him," he said. "Madam Hardy informs me that he's more fit than any student here, and most adults as well. Wherever he's from, Andrew is no stranger to physical labour."

"Have you discovered anything about where he might be from?"

Shaking his head sadly, Professor Dippet answered, "I've examined all his clothing and cast every scrying spell I can think of. Nothing brings me any closer to a real answer. Of the boy himself, when asked, he knew nothing of his life before he woke."

"Yet he remembered his name?" the younger wizard asked.

"Alas, no," the headmaster lamented. "His memory is a total blank, or at least it was when last we spoke. Laurel says that it's likely a reaction to whatever method transported him here. As the shock fades, his memory should return. She couldn't be more specific about when, apparently it will happen in its own time. As for his name, I gave it to him – it fits, don't you think?"

"I'm sure it does," the auburn haired man replied. What will become of him now?"

"That, my dear Albus," said the headmaster in a conspiritual tone, "is what I wanted to discuss with you. I've already informed the ministry of his arrival, if not the circumstances surrounding it. They promised to send someone out to look into it, with the unrest going on in Europe at the moment, however, it's more likely that they'll simply leave him in our care.

"He's of age to attend school, Madam Hardy puts him at just shy of twelve and quite obviously magical. I propose we let him be sorted into a house, with some tutoring we'll have him ready to start second year classes come September first."

Stopping in the middle of the corridor, Albus regarded the headmaster with a suspicious look. "You don't mean – "

"Don't panic," Professor Dippet admonished. "I've already talked to Horace and a few other members of the staff. So far, they're all willing to share in the responsibility of catching him up. Later this morning I'm going to have you take him to retrieve his wand, past that it should only pull you away from Nicholas for a couple hours a day, perhaps twice a week at most."

"While I agree that it wouldn't affect our research over-much, It does beg the question, why so much interest in this one boy?" Albus asked. "Couldn't he just start as a first year next term?"

"That's the fascinating thing," answered the headmaster as a gleam came to his eyes. "I was thinking exactly that last night as I was preparing my missive to the ministry. My original plan was to do just as you suggested. The odd thing was that when I finished writing, it was my proposal to start him as a second year that was on the parchment. Realizing my mistake, I made three separate attempts to correct it. Each time was just like the first. Mind you, I was in my office at the time and you well-know the wards protecting it. There were no spells cast on it or me.

"Call it fate, destiny or the living will of magic itself, Andrew arrived on our doorstep for a purpose. For the time being and as I see no immediate danger to the school or students, I suggest we let things progress as they are and keep a sharp eye on our young friend."

Albus gazed at the headmaster, his gaze advertising the doubts that troubled him. He knew, however, that Professor Dippet was as wise as he was stubborn and eccentric. If this was the choice of action he chose, nothing could be said to change it for now. Resuming their journey, they soon arrived at the hospital wing to greet their charge.

As they entered the ward, Albus noticed how quiet it was even for this early in the morning. Laurel was usually bustling about, changing bedsheets or restocking the potions cabinet to be ready for the daily upsets that children faced at school. Today there was none of that, the room was still and silent. Venturing further into the room, they noticed Madam Hardy leaning against the doorway to her office staring bemusedly at the curtained off bed where Andrew had been left the night before.

Silently joining her, they looked, first in askance to her, then to the bed she was watching so carefully. On top of the mattress sat Andrew. The sheets and cover was made up tidy as you please and the boy himself sat on it cross-legged with hands resting on his knees. His head was bowed as if in concentration and from what they could see of his expression, the only description that fit was serene.

"I found him like that when I first came in two hours ago," the medi-witch explained in a whisper. "He hasn't moved a muscle in that whole time except to apologise and ask that I wait to examine him until he was done meditating."

"Meditating you say," the headmaster murmured speculatively. "He's begun to remember some of his past then?"

"He woke up from a dream last night and told me his real name," Madam Hardy replied, quite pleased. "I think he probably remembers quite a bit more than that but hasn't said anything else yet."

There was an extended moment of silence as the two wizards waited expectantly while Madam Hardy continued to watch the unmoving child.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"His name," Professor Dippet prompted, perhaps a bit too loudly. "I was right, it was Andrew, wasn't it?"

"Oh, of course," she replied blushing furiously. "Watching him is quite distracting. "I'm sorry Headmaster, he called himself Anakin."

A little of the enthusiasm seemed to leave the headmaster's face. "You're sure he didn't say Andrew?"

"No sir," she replied with an amused expression. "He spoke quite clearly."

"Pity," he replied absently. "He looks like an Andrew."

Stepping over to the bedside, the headmaster opened his mouth to announce his presence but Anakin's eyes snapped opened and his head tilted to one side as he regarded the ancient wizard. A quiet, sincere smile crossed his face and he said, "good morning sir."

"Ah, and a good morning to you Andrew," Professor Dippet said, returning the boy's smile. "It's good to see you so recovered."

"Anakin, sir."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Anakin, it's my name. I remembered it last night."

"Ah yes," replied the headmaster lightly. "has anything else come back to you?"

"Just bits and pieces," Anakin answered vaguely as he hopped off the bed and pulled on his grey under garment and brown tunic. The wizards watched silently as he busied himself adjusting the coarse material to lay neatly against his body. The garb looked almost Midevil in design. The cotton like material, dark brown in colour bore no visible buttons or fasteners of any kind. His only adornment was a leather belt that buckled over a sash at his midriff. Professor Dippet had hoped that Anakin's unique clothing would shed some light to his origins but it matched nothing the headmaster recognised. Having finished slipping on his boots and a voluminous brown robe, it was Anakin himself who broke the silence.

"What now sir?"

"Well," replied the headmaster as he conjured a chintz chair to sit in. "Before we did anything else, I was wondering about the bits and pieces you were speaking of earlier. Do you remember who your parents are or where they're at?"

A somber look crossed Anakin's face as he answered. "I never knew my father; my mother's name was Shmi, she died a long time ago. I can see flashes of where we lived, it was a desert but I couldn't begin to tell you where it is or how to get there. I was a lot of places after that, mostly I remember a huge city but other places as well and being on a ship a lot."

"Were I to make a guess," broke in Albus, who'd come over to stand behind Professor Dippet's chair. "It seems that you became the ward of a seaman, perhaps worked as the cabin boy on a ship."

"I guess," Anakin replied non-committally. "Who are you?" he asked with a boldness that only a child could get away with.

"Oh dear," chirped the headmaster as he clapped his hands together gleefully. "My fault entirely. Andrew, This is Albus Dumbledore, professor of Transfiguration and Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts."

"Anakin."

"Eh?"

"Anakin, Sir," the boy corrected patiently, not noticing the knowing and amused look that passed between Albus and Madam Hardy.

"Of course my boy," answered Professor Dippet placatingly. "Albus has already met you of course, he's the one who found you beside our lake." The headmaster beamed as Anakin gravely shook Professor Dumbledore's hand and thanked him for the rescue. "Do you remember if anyone around you knew of magic there?" he asked after they were finished.

"Well, no... and yes," Anakin answered, sounding a bit uncertain. The people I was with did; I was studying under one of them but it was different. The magic here feels more or less the same as at home but stronger some how, like it's more concentrated here."

"You can feel magic?" Albus asked incredulously.

Nodding guardedly, Anakin responded. "Nobody had sticks like yours, we had to be able to sense magic to learn control."

"You can control it then?"

"Kind of," Anakin answered as he thought furiously. He still didn't know how or why he was here and every instinct told him that to tell them everything about himself would cause more problems than it would solve. "Its just that at my age we just start our apprenticeships. Most of us only know a few simple tricks. It takes at least ten years from that to finish our training and I started later than most."

"Could you show us one of your tricks?" the headmaster asked encouragingly. "Don't be embarrassed, we're all truly interested in what you can do."

"Alright," said Anakin as he took a quick look around. Pulling the bed table over, he warned them, "Watch the cup."

Closing his eyes, Anakin put on a show of concentration that far exceeded his need. As he opened himself to the force, he sensed the presence of another wizard in the room, a child, but he thought nothing of it. He lifted his hand and willed the cup to start trembling slightly, then rise in a slow, jerky motion off of the table. He was again astounded by the sheer power of the force here. It was actually a chore not to send the cup crashing into the ceiling. He opened his eyes, expecting expressions of disappointment at worst, indulgence at best. What he got were three faces blank with shock.

"Wandless magic!" Professor Dippet breathed excitedly. "And from one so young!"

"It's unheard of," gasped Laurel. "to accomplish even a simple charm without a proper focus!"

"You don't happen to remember any other tricks, do you?" the headmaster asked with barely veiled enthusiasm.

"Sorry," Anakin lied smoothly. "I know that the masters could do other things but I don't know exactly what."

"Pity," the headmaster sighed as the glass settled back on the table. "Still – " They were interrupted by the sound of a quiet cough from the infirmary doorway.

Looking up, Anakin spied dark haired boy about his physical age coming around the curtain. He was slight of build with robes that looked to have seen better days but were meticulously kept. His blue eyes gazed at the group with an apparent innocence but Anakin could sense a cunning intellect behind them. There was no doubt in his mind that the newcomer had bore witness to his demonstration.

"Good morning Tom," Professor Dumbledore said as he took note of the boy. "Shouldn't you be on your way to breakfast now?"

"Yes sir," he replied, surreptitiously scrutinizing Anakin. "There's something I need to ask you about."

Anakin studied Tom in return as he spoke. There was something so familiar about the other boy, something he couldn't quite place. There was fear and anger in him, it pulsed like a star. There was hope as well and a spirit that wouldn't be crushed. Everything was hidden behind a mask of innocence that he wore with an actors skill. That skill was being put to the test as that anger threatened to boil over at the professor's response.

"I'm sorry Tom but we're a bit busy here. Have you spoken with your head of house? I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to assist you."

"Yes sir," Tom replied with a steady voice. "He said I should talk to you."

Sighing with just a hint of impatience in his voice Professor Dumbledore attempted to dismiss him again. "It's just not the best time. I've got to take this young man to see about a wand later and I've other affairs to attend. Perhaps you could check back with me tomorrow or when classes start back again on Monday."

A sudden impulse taking him, Anakin looked into Professor Dippet's eyes and said quietly, "It would be wonderful if Tom showed me around school until Professor Dumbledore was ready. He could even come with us to Diagon Alley."

"I have a wonderful Idea," proclaimed the headmaster loudly and interrupting Dumbledore. "Why not have Tom show Andrew around the school until you're ready to go Albus? In fact, perhaps you should

take him with you to Diagon Alley. I'm sure our young charge would appreciate a companion his own age."

Professor Dumbledore stared, seemingly shocked by the headmaster's suggestion while Tom couldn't seem to settle on being outraged or encouraged. Anakin, for his part, wore a mask of innocence not too different than Tom had worn not moments before. He schooled his face to remain blank as both teacher and student sputtered out; "But – "

"But nothing," Professor Dippet finished for them. "Young Mr Riddle, you'll take Andrew-"

"Anakin."

"Quite right. You'll take Andrew in hand and keep him entertained until Professor Dumbledore is ready to take him for his wand. In exchange, you'll have time to talk about anything you wish while you're in Diagon Alley.

"Armando – "

"And you, Albus," continued the headmaster. "I believe you wanted some time this morning to confer with Nicholas. Having Mr Riddle along on your trip to is hardly a heavy price to pay for that."

Nodding reluctantly, Albus relented. "As always, your counsel is appreciated Armando. I'll do as you suggest. Tom, please take Anakin down for breakfast then show him around the castle. I'll see you both in the Entrance Hall at half-eleven."

"But-" Tom tried to protest again, only to be cut off by the headmaster.

"Now, now," he said. "Andrew is new here-"

"Anakin," the boy in question reminded him tiredly – yet again – as he walked over to join Tom at the door.

"That's what I said. You two run along to breakfast, Andrew has quite a day ahead of him."

"An – oh, forget it." Anakin said as they left the infirmary.

They walked in silence for a bit, Anakin did his best not to stare at all the force enhanced items that lined the corridors while Tom kept shooting suspicious glances at him. 'It's amazing really,' he thought to himself. 'They have all these incredible artefacts, charged with the force yet as individuals they have almost no force ability at all unless they're using those sticks.' He continued to watch and ponder, not offering conversation nor asking any questions of his companion. Finally the silence became too much and the Slytherin boy asked, "You're muggleborn, aren't you?"

"I'm what?"

"Muggleborn," Tom explained with a superior look. "You're magical but your parent's weren't. You have to be if you don't even know what it means."

"You're wrong, actually," Anakin explained. "I'm not from here. We had no words for 'muggleborns' where we came from. The ability to use magic is much more rare than here, though it does run stronger in some families. Though I never knew him, I have it on good authority that my 'father' was _very_ magical. My mother was never tested or trained, but I don't think I could have been born if she wasn't."

"so you could be a pureblood then."

Exasperated, Anakin asked sharply, "should it matter? Ability and intent should be more important than whether your parents were... muggle... you called them?"

"You haven't had to deal with that filth," Tom shot back angrily. "They're cruel, sadistic and treacherous. Muggles are a lower order of creature; they're nothing but animals."

Tom ranted on about muggles in general, completely missing Anakin's flinch when he recognised an all too familiar phrase. He was spared reliving a painful moment or having to respond in any way as they arrived at the Great Hall. Stepping through the doorway, Anakin was again amazed by the complex force manipulation these wizards were capable of.

The room itself seemed common and primitive enough; the walls and floor were made of stone and windows of simple glass. Four long tables, lined with benches, ran the length of the room, while a head table, perpendicular to the others, sat at the end. A fireplace burned merrily along the right wall and tall windows displayed a beautiful view of the nearby lake. What made the room so remarkable, however, was the ceiling.

The hall looked, at first, to be open to the sky. The morning sun had just broken over the east wall, flooding the room with light. At first, Anakin was almost fooled except for the concentration of magic. The more he looked, however, the more apparent crossbeams and windows near the peak became. A gentle nudge snapped him out of his reverie and made him realize he was gawking like a child.

"Don't worry about it," Tom said with a superior smirk. "All the muggleborns do it at first. Come on," he prompted. "Let's get some breakfast."

Allowing the other boy to lead him, Anakin took better note of the other people in the room for the first time. Most were children or teens, looking to be anywhere from ten to eighteen years of age. They were evenly disbursed among the four tables, some eating, some studying, all carrying on animated conversations at the same time. The head table was populated by an older group, men and women in the later part of their lives, most likely masters.

Arriving at the table closest to the windows, Tom sat at the end populated by other children about their age and gave a short introduction to the rest of the group as he retrieved his breakfast. "Everyone, this is Anakin..."

"Eh... Lars-" Anakin replied after a short pause.

"-Right, Anakin Lars. He's being sorted this afternoon but the headmaster is having me show him around until Dumbledore is ready to take him for his wand."

"And you agreed?" asked a pale, light haired boy, his expression conveyed both shock and scorn. "That's a job for a Hufflepuff!"

A murderous look crossed Tom's face before he schooled it to become impassive. "It's not like he gave me much choice," he replied tightly. "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"George Nott," said the boy, offering his hand to Anakin. "Of the Manchester Notts."

"Anakin," the Jedi replied as he maintained his story. "I'm really not sure where I'm from."

"He's got amnesia," Tom explained to his mystified house-mates as he poured himself some tea. "He doesn't remember much more than his name."

"He could be a mudblood then," a dark haired witch gasped, looking scandalized. "We shouldn't be talking to him!"

"Mudblood?" Anakin asked.

"Calm down Walburga," said another girl airily. "We don't know what he is yet, he could even end up in Slytherin. At least he isn't a dirty muggle." Holding her hand out to be kissed, the blond regally introduced herself. "Lucretia Black," she said with a grimace as Anakin shook her proffered hand awkwardly. "You've already met my charming cousin, Walburga."

"Pleased to meet you," he replied sincerely – for the most part. "What's a mudblood?"

"Dirty blood," George explained. "It's a bit plebeian, but an apt description for the offspring of a wizard and a muggle."

"There should be a law against it," Walburga put in rather loudly. "Mother and Father say it's only a matter of time before there is. They say the German minister put through several to keep the Mudbloods and Squibs away from their betters."

All the conversations within earshot of the Slytherin girls rant immediately stopped and everyone stared nervously in their direction. At the same time Anakin, who'd been listening to everything with rapt attention, nearly choked on the piece of fruit he'd been eating when he sensed another presence in the force. While nowhere near strong as his and untrained to boot, it was stronger than any of the wizards he'd come across so far.

Letting his eyes and senses scan the hall, Anakin searched futilely until his eyes fell on a sullen teen leaning against the wall by the doors. He was slim, almost gaunt, probably fourteen or fifteen years old with brown eyes and hair. Unlike the students, he didn't wear school robes, instead he had on rough cotton pants and shirt, with a dirty brown overcoat to go with it. He stood next to a severe older woman in similar garb. Intrigued, Anakin asked his guide about him.

"Tom," he said as he pointed surreptitiously at the glowering teen. "Who's that?"

Glancing in the indicated direction, the Slytherin sniffed disdainfully before answering. "Really Anakin, It's just the help. The school caretaker and her apprentice... rumour has it they're squibs, that's why the boy isn't a student."

"A squib?"

"Born to magical parents without any powers of their own," said and upper classman a bit down the table. "In the old days, they'd have been smothered in the crib, a mercy to them and their family. Now everyone's gone soft, trying to give them _productive_ lives."

"You don't know his name, do you?" Anakin asked, trying to ignore the older boy's comments.

"They're squibs and they're the help," Lucretia explained slowly, as if she were talking to someone dull-witted. "They don't _have_ names."

The last part was loud enough for everyone to hear and a round of cruel laughter that spread beyond the Slytherin table echoed through the hall. The Young man in question, a murderous look on his face, audibly growled as he abruptly stormed out of the hall. His mistress, while equally enraged, stayed and glared daggers at the Slytherin table, all the while memorizing faces.

His breakfast forgotten, Anakin jumped up and moved to follow the retreating apprentice. Caught unawares, Tom sat gaping after his charge for a moment before rising with a few choice words of his own and running after. He needed Anakin with him until he could talk to Dumbledore. Sprinting out into the corridor, he nearly ran into Anakin as the new boy scanned the hallway in each direction.

"Where are you going?" asked Tom crossly.

"I was looking for that boy," Anakin answered distantly.

"In Merlin's name, why?"

"Because-" Anakin's shoulders slumped a bit and he let out a tired sigh. "It's not important right now. You were going to give me a tour?"

Giving Anakin another hard, suspicious look, Tom agreed. "Right then, come on."

Give a tour is exactly what Tom did... with a Slytherin slant. He described the four houses, portraying his own house as the best while the others came out sounding as either weak or stupid. They saw the library, which gave Anakin an almost irresistible urge to take a nap, some classrooms and even went a short way into the dungeons when Tom asked Anakin about his demonstration in the Hospital Wing.

"That thing you did for the headmaster," he finally said uncomfortably. "Moving the cup without a wand. How did you do it?"

Shrugging vaguely, Anakin replied, "I just did. It's how I was trained to use magic... I felt the magic flowing around and through the cup and had the magic lift it."

"Can you teach me?"

"I," Anakin paused, trying to find some gentle way to let the other boy down. "I'm not sure. From what Master Dippet said, wizards cant feel magic and even if you could, training for us starts for us about the time be learn to talk. It would be very difficult, if not impossible."

The same murderous rage flitted across Tom's face for a moment before the mask fell in place again. "It's not all that useful though, is it? He said snidely, his anger translated into words, "Just a silly trick."

he turned away, visibly disgusted but Anakin could see the longing and hurt hidden behind his eyes. They continued their tour a bit longer until Tom noticed they had nearly run out of time.

"We've got to get back upstairs," he growled as he pulled Anakin by the shirt-sleeve and began running for the Entrance Hall. They made it with seconds to spare, Tom winded and bent over as he tried to catch his breath while Anakin stood watching him with a curious expression.

"I see you made it," Professor Dumbledore said as he approached them. "Though it seems only just. Do you need time to recover yourself, Tom?" Not having the breath to spare, The Slytherin just shook his head and waved them on.

Stepping out the entry doors, Anakin felt almost like he'd entered another world. Sunlight shined down on them as they gazed at the panorama before them. Hogwarts grounds were covered in lush, green grass that rippled like an ocean in the summer breeze. A forest rose up one hundred or so metres from the castle and encircled it, save where a large placid lake glimmered in the morning sun. Students played or just sat on the lawn, basking in the warmth. Just like inside the castle, Anakin could feel the force flowing strongly everywhere. There was something else too. A pull that he felt was meant for only him coming from the forest, there was something he was meant to see in there soon.

"It's out of bounds," said Tom, his gaze following Anakin's. "The Centaurs don't like humans going in the forest and according to the headmaster, there's lots of other dangerous creatures in there."

Nodding absently, really only barely hearing the warning, Anakin asked, "Where are we going anyway?"

"Hogsmeade," Professor Dumbledore explained as they walked. "The headmaster doesn't want direct floo access to the school with things like they are and the the nearest available is at the Three Broomsticks."

"Floo?"

"Magical travel," Tom supplied with a snort. "Don't you know anything? It takes you from one place to another almost instantly. Not so windy or dangerous as riding a broom," he added, pointing to the sky. His gaze following Tom's finger, Anakin let out a soft gasp as he spied some third and forth years playing tag above the lawn.

'They're riding sweepers," Anakin thought to himself as he watched them swoop and dive. Shmi, his mother, had used almost the same tool to clean Watto's shop an eternity ago. Now they were being used to fly... to FLY!

"So," he asked in a casual tone as they left the grounds, though his eyes gave away the excitement he felt. "How fast do you think they go?"

xXx

My apologies to anybody expecting the next chapter of Slytherin's heir, life and this chapter have kind of hijacked me the last couple months.


	3. I Can't Take You Anywhere

A/N: Fear not, Blind Faith is still being written i just had to get this out.

Disclaimer: I don't own starwars or Harry Potter

Chapter 3: I can't take you anywhere

Professor Dumbledore, Anakin and Tom arrived in Hogsmeade after a short walk along the path. It resembled many small settlements Ani had seen over the years, though like the castle, it had no hint of even the beginning of industrial technology save one thing; there was a set of parallel metal rails that started at a large shed, ran close to a platform and small building, then stretched out of sight.

Intrigued, Anakin nudged his reluctant companion and asked, "What are those for?"

Looking at the new boy with a disbelieving expression, Tom answered. "That's the station where the Hogwarts Express arrives. You do know what a train is..." At Anakin's dubious expression, Tom snorted dismissively. "What primitive backwater do you come from anyway? Look, it's a Muggle device that the school enchanted and uses to bring students in from London." When the look he was receiving didn't change, Tom threw up his arms in disgust. "Just read about it when we get back!"

It was as they walked through the village that Anakin recognised something all to familiar, fear. Growing up a slave, then as a jedi, Ani knew the look of cold fear in someone's eyes. Knowledge that pain and death could come at any time. He'd experienced it as a child and been the author of it after his fall. Now he saw the same looks on the people here.

It was nothing overt, nobody was running about screaming in terror but the signs were still there. Many of the villagers greeted them, Professor Dumbledore in particular, but the smiles never reached their eyes. Mothers kept their children within arms reach and there were nervous glances, as if they expected someone to jump at them from the shadows.

When he was positive it wasn't his imagination, Anakin asked, "Master Dumbledore, has something happened here? Everyone seems frightened for some reason."

with a sad look on his face, Professor Dumbledore replied, "You've noticed the people's disquiet then."

Nodding and speaking in a quiet tone, Anakin answered, "Where I came from there was a war going on, it was common for people to act like this."

"A conflict is brewing here as well," the professor admitted quietly. "It is occurring in both the Muggle and magical worlds. There is a wizard in another country, he's their minister of magic. He, along with their Muggle Chancellor have been preaching blood purity and expansion for several years now. He's incited hatred for squibs and Muggleborns, blaming them for a plethora of ills our world faces. He rallies his forces under the banner of twin lightning bolts while his Muggle counterpart is doing much the same, using a broken cross, called the swastika for his symbol. I regret you've had to experience such atrocities and it's my hope that this is as close as you'll get to it here." Seizing on a chance to change the subject as they approached a well lit building, Dumbledore added, "The Three Broomsticks, one of the finest Inns in Scotland. It's from here that we'll find our transportation to London."

Unsure how they'd be doing any travelling from there, Anakin stepped inside behind the professor. He found himself in a quaint little inn that, barring its lack of technology, could have been one of the cosy establishments he and Padme had frequented while together on Naboo. Tables were spread about the large front room with enough space for a sense of privacy yet still have a homey feel. A bar ran along the back wall with a doorway halfway down it. Heavenly smells coming from it set Ani's mouth to watering even though he'd already eaten a short time ago.

"Alboos" a voice cried out heartily from one end of the bar. A swarthy man in well kept home spun clothing strode from one end of the bar and embraced the Defence teacher in a bear hug. "It's good to see you again. You spend far too much time up in that drafty castle. Esmerelda loves to cook and my daughter, Catrina," he added with a sly grin, "she pines for your company, eh?"

"I wish I could, Gregoiro," the professor answered with a slight blush. "Unfortunately, my days for the near future have been filled by our newest student," he said, indicating Anakin with a wave. "The other professors and I will be helping him catch up to his year-mates."

His attention refocused, Gregorio gave the boy an appraising look that was returned by the young Jedi. The innkeeper was a swarthy dark haired man with skin the colour and texture of tanned hide. Laugh lines were etched deeply in his face and he wore an easy smile that, while it reached his eyes, Ani could sense a hardness there that didn't bode well for anyone who crossed him. Dressed in a white tunic, dark breeches and a colourful sash, he made a dashing figure; as Ani would later learn, the innkeeper's family had been gypsies before settling in Hogsmeade, though he wouldn't hear about that for some time.

With profuse appologies to Gregorio, Professor Dumbledore moved to the fireplace as he explained, "We're late for an appointment in Diagon Alley, I'm afraid. With your permission, I'd like to use your floo."

"Of course, Alboos. I insist, though, that you dine with me and my family soon."

"The moment I have free time, I promise. For now I'm afraid we must be off." Professor Dumbledore then gave Ani a crash course in floo travel, leaving the Jedi more than a bit sceptical.

"So I throw powder in a cooking fire, jump after it and end up where I tell it to go?" he asked in a disbelieving voice.

"In a nutshell, yes," replied the professor with a twinkle in his eye.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"He's not having you on," Tom growled in disgust. "Just follow me – unless you're scared." That said, the Slytherin boy took up a handful floo powder from the nearby pot and threw it into the flames. When they flared green, he called, "Diagon Alley," and stepped into the hearth, vanishing instantly.

Blushing hotly, Anakin took up his own handful of powder and was reminded by Professor Dumbledore to "Speak your destination clearly." Nodding, Anakin tossed in the powder, repeated the words Tom used and stepped through.

Somehow, from the way they'd talked, Anakin had expected a nearly instantaneous journey. Instead, he tumbled in a dark void for a good fifteen to twenty seconds before reaching his destination. Along the way he tumbled wildly, seeing flashed of other fireplaces as he went. Finally, one of them rushed toward him and rather than slow down, he seemed to pick up speed.

The patrons of the Leaky Cauldron looked up from their drinks as the fireplace flared and spewed out a body much more forcefully than normal. The boy, it was too small to be a man, was launched almost five feet into the air, twisted, somehow, in mid-flight, and came down lightly on his feet, facing the hearth.

Anakin stood there , knees slightly bent and breathing heavily. His face was filthy, seeming to have been a magnet for all the ash between Hogsmeade and his current location. Far from distressed by his ejection or condition of his clothing, his face shown with excitement that was unmistakeable.

"We've got to do that again," he crowed as he caught his breath. "That's how we're going back, right?"

A much cleaner Tom stood by the floo, trying not to look surprised. The first time through, most people ended up on their arse and feeling a bit sick. The new boy looked like he was ready to spend the day riding the network. "Hopeless," Tom muttered as the floo flared again.

Professor Dumbledore emerged, upright and immaculate. Smiling gently as he spotted Anakin, he said, "Thank you my boy, that's the cleanest ride I've ever had through the system, thanks to your leading the way." Taking out his wand, the professor waved it over Anakin, banishing the soot and leaving him spotless

Leading the boys through the crowded tavern, they entered a tiny courtyard through a door in back. Professor Dumbledore grinned at them before tapping a series of bricks on the wall with his wand. At first, nothing seemed to happen until Anakin felt a surge in the force and then the bricks began to rearrange themselves into an archway.

"Diagon Alley," The professor proclaimed as Anakin looked at the chaos beyond. "Centre of British Wizarding commerce and jewel of our society."

Stepping through, Anakin absorbed the sights and sounds around him. Wizarding establishments lined the thoroughfare. Signs that moved, flashed, and even spoke in some cases, marked each establishment while its inhabitants, mostly human, went busily about their day.

Professor Dumbledore lead them through the crowds, half listening as Tom began arguing his case for staying at the castle over the summer break. He didn't want to return to the orphanage, Anakin found out as they went. According to Tom, the other children recognised something different in him and they persecuted him out of their own ignorance. It wasn't the whole story, however, Ani could hear it in the other boy's voice, he was leaving something out.

Intrigued by Tom's story and the insights it gave him about human culture here, Anakin barely noticed when they'd arrived in front of a particular shop until Professor Dumbledore's voice grabbed his attention. "This is Ollivander's. He and his family have been making wands for more than two millenia and have become the official supplier of school wands. Go in tell him That you're a scholarship student here for your first wand. I'll be along shortly, once I make a stop at Gringotts and finish with Tom."

Unsure what a Gringotts was or how he was supposed to recognise this Ollivander person, Ani just nodded and figured he'd follow the professor's directions the best he could. Entering the tiny shop, he was confronted with a dim, dusty room lined with shelves full of small boxes. Directly across from the door was an empty counter, making the shop seem deserted though Ani knew better. From the shadows in one dark corner he felt a disturbance, A presence he couldn't describe.

It was neither Jedi nor wizard, good or evil, it was simply there. Focusing his gaze on the murky corner, Anakin said pointedly, "You can come out, I know you're there."

The first thing to become visible was the man's spectacles, glinting in the room's half light. As he moved forward, the figure became visible in the shop's soft lighting. With a hawk-like nose, a bald pate and sinister sneer, he put up a show of eerie malevolence. His force presence, however, merely indicated amusement and anticipation until he realized he'd been spotted.

"I've been sent to get a wand," Anakin said as a way of introduction. "Master Dumbledore said I should tell you he would be along shortly."

Frowning at the loss of his fun, the wizened old man, Ollivander, Ani assumed, Nodded slightly. "Let's see if we can't find you one then." Looking the boy over carefully, he asked, "My family has supplied wands to a large portion of the European wizarding community since before the time of the founders, " he declared. "I've sold wands to every major family in Britain and can spot any of their members on first sight. You, however I do not know? Are you Muggle-born?"

"I'm not from around here," Anakin explained as he turned his head to follow the old man's progress with interest.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Ollivander said as he pulled out a tape-measure. "Which is your wand hand?"

"My what?"

"Ah yes, the hand with which you perform most tasks."

"I've been trained to use either hand equally."

Ollivander's eyebrows rose a hair at Anakin's claim but he never the less went about measuring both arms. "Do you have any experience with magic?" the wand maker asked as he took each of Ani's hands in his own, studying them intently.

I studied it for a few years back where I came from; we didn't have wands though, it wasn't exactly spells we cast either."

"Really... Let's see what we can find for you then."

Stepping behind the counter, Ollivander sorted through the boxes till he found one that met his approval.

"Ash and Unicorn hair, twelve inches," the wand maker said reverently as he placed the box on the counter and opened it. "Go on, pick it up and give it a wave."

Shrugging, Anakin stepped forward and reached for it. He could sense the wand through the force and the slight disturbance it created. He could already tell that it didn't resonate with him but thought it was best to humour the old man. They were both surprised, however, when the wand rolled away from his hand. Intrigured, Anakin reached for it again, this time the wand seemed to jump before rolling off the counter with a clatter.

"Strange," said Ollivander with an inscrutable look. Picking up the wand and replacing it in the box he went to get another. "Birch and Ground Bullywug bone, nine and one half inches." Anakin again reached for the new wand, only to have it react same as the first.

They went through countless boxes with the corresponding wands all acting the same. Finally, when they were both becoming frustrated, Ollivander sat down what would be the last box they'd need to open. "Holly and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, excellent for defensive casting and hexes."

Anakin could feel a sympathetic resonance with this wand though it seemed skittish as the rest at first. As he reached for it, the wand seemed to tremble, roll a couple inches away, then go completely motionless as Anakin's fingers closed around it. At Ollivander's nod, Ani waved the wand about with no obvious reaction at first save a faint vibration that he barely noticed at first, though became very aware of as it redoubled in intensity with every passing second.

"Strange indeed," murmured Ollivander as a visible glow began to slowly crawl up the wand. When it reached the tip, the vibrations reached a crescendo and the end of the wand literally blew off. With a familiar snap-hiss, a blade of pure white magical energy nearly a meter long extended from it while the room's two occupants stared at it in awe.

Ollivander wore a gob-smacked expression because he'd never seen such a beautiful sight, Anakin, on the other hand, did so partly because he had. More importantly though, he was in the throws of a force vision.

He saw an image of himself a bit older, using a device that slightly resembled his old light saber in shape but had no obvious controls. Instead, it was a leather wrapped cylinder bound with metal bands and crowned and capped by ornate metal devices. Where the beam emitter should have been, a crystal of some kind was seated. The vision and Anakin's contemplations were shattered, however, when the wand in his hand began to shake violently and grow hot to the touch.

Badly overtaxed, the wand began to smoke and then actually catch fire before Anakin could even try to halt the flow of power he'd been unconsciously sending through it. Dropping the wand, he gazed at it with a wry expression and said, "I guess we found my wand."

"Indeed," said the wand maker. "Though I doubt that it or any other wand I have here would suit... I'm afraid we'll have to make a custom wand for you."

"If it's all the same sir, I'd rather you didn't."

"What?"

"Where I came from, wizards didn't use wands for everyday magic, they did use devices called light sabres. It was the responsibility of the individual wizard to create his own weapon. The problem is the technology to make one doesn't exist on this world. I think, though, that I might be able to make a wand that will act as one but I wouldn't even know how to begin."

"Making a wand is serious business," the old man said in a grim tone. "To truly understand the mechanics of it and the expertise necessary to make a custom one would take years. You'd never be able to do it on your own."

"I know it'll be hard but this is something I _have_ to do... please."

"Hmm..." the wand maker said contemplatively. "There are some books that will help you with the basics but it won't be enough. You have to have a true understanding of every component and how it affects the whole. If you're really serious about this and putting the work behind it that's necessary, I might allow you to apprentice with me during the summers. Normally I wouldn't even consider it but the way magic reacts to you fascinates me. I will need to speak to your parents in order to set the apprenticeship up."

"I'm an orphan," Ani admitted, "I've been made a ward of the school."

The shop's door opened just then, ending their conversation as Professor Dumbledore entered. The professor looked frazzled and perhaps a bit angry, though he didn't let it enter his voice. "Octavius," he said in a pleasant tone. "It's good to see you as always. Has our young friend located his wand yet?"

With a careless gesture toward the smouldering mess on the floor, Olivander replied with a faint grin. "In a manner of speaking, you could say that. I doubt he will be using it or any other conventional wand at Hogwarts, however."

"What do you mean?" Professor Dumbledore asked with a slight frown.

"The boy can cast wandlessly, can't he?" Ollivander asked with a gleam in his eye.

"How... Yes, he demonstrated a levitation charm for us but we thought he'd be more effective with a wand."

"You were wrong," the wand maker said with a smile. "The lad doesn't need a focus for is magic, he _is_ one. He over loaded the one wand that was compatible with him and he wasn't even trying to cast a spell."

"Armondo said he expected something much like this to happen but insisted the boy come and try at least."

"Then he'll have no qualms paying for the ruined wand," Ollivander commented smugly. Turning to Anakin he handed the boy a book he'd gotten from behind the counter and said, "When you've finished with this, owl it back to me and I'll send you another. Hogwarts library will have a few Tomes I can suggest as well.

"The boy will be working here in the shop during summer break, three days a week," he told Dumbledore as he escorted them to the door. "I'll work the details out with Armando later. Now, as I have other customers likely waiting, I'll bid you both a good day."

Thanking Ollivander again, Ani and Professor Dumbledore left Ollivanders to find the alley now crowded to capacity. A throng of witches and wizards were gathered around a podium that had been set up in the square by Gringotts and on it was a thin, hawk faced man speaking in a foreign accent. They were still too far away to hear what was being said, all the same Ani found it somehow familiar. A grunt of frustration from Professor Dumbledore caught his attention and he looked up to see the older wizard scanning the crowd impatiently, presumably searching for any sign of Tom.

"I told him..." growled Dumbledore impatiently. "Stay here, I'll be back in a moment."

as Professor Dumbledore disappeared into the crowd, Anakin turned his attention back to the speaker. Outwardly, he was a non-descript sort, of average height and build, his face was moderately handsome while his light brown hair and beard were kept short and neatly trimmed. It was the man's eyes, however, that made Ani immediately distrust him.

Anakin had heard speeches by ambassadors, traders and even heads of state. He knew how politicians worked and the way they manipulated their audience with nothing but words. Emperor Palpatine had been a master at turning a crowd to his whim, this man seemed cut from the same cloth.

"Savages," the speaker declared loudly. "Muggles are a menace to the entire world, not just their own, but ours as well. Look at what happened a mere thirteen years ago. They embroiled a fair portion of Europe in a war that saw many of our kind caught in the cross-fire. Countless pureblood families were eradicated while others lost countless sons and daughters because of the senseless conflict.

"Now, Muggle war again looms on the horizon. In my own country, our minister is working desperately to keep Chancellor Hitler from beginning a massive campaign of conquest. Herr Grindelwald is only one man, however, and our magical population is small. Alone we can do nothing but there is hope.

Minister Grindelwald has suggested the creation of a Wizard state, this would be composed of Europe's major magical populations and directed by a high council similar to your Wizengamot. A new order would be created, devoted to preserving our community keeping it from Muggle contamination."

"What contamination would that be exactly?" asked a member of the crowd not too far from Ani, a bald man that looked to be in his mid to late forties. "Our world remains hidden as it has been for the last thousand years. For most of us, the only contact we have with them is from Muggle born wizards."

"My point exactly," said the man on the podium with a slight smirk. "Muggle born wizards have been infiltrating our society in ever growing numbers. They dare to try marrying into our pureblood families and thinning it with their inferior blood. The proof is obvious to anyone with a bit of intelligence. In the last hundred years since Muggleborns became somewhat accepted in our society, the number of squibs born and living to adulthood have jumped dramatically. If they have their way, our entire population will be gone before the century's turn."

"You're insane," the dissenter scoffed over increased murmurs in the crowd. "I know several Muggleborns who are stronger than the average pureblood. Further, none of them, as far as I know, have given birth to a squib. That seems to only happen primarily in pureblood families."

"You argue strongly for Muggleborns," purred the speaker, though his eyes were narrowed with suppressed anger. "You wouldn't happen to be one, would you?"

"My name is Hadrian Potter," answered the man. "My family can be traced back nearly to the time of the founders, though it shouldn't matter. I argue because your assertions have no basis in fact; you're playing on people's fears to sway them."

"No basis you say," asked the speaker. "What of the recent attacks on wizarding families by Muggles?"

"It's never been established the attacks were by Muggles Mr..."

"Gruber, Hans Gruber. It's well known that the attacks were carried out with Muggle weaponry."

"That's hardly-"

"Three families," Hans snarled "Three pureblood wizarding families murdered in their sleep by _Muggle weapons_. Not just the men, mind you, but the women and children as well."

The crowd's demeanour took an angry turn Hans went on to describe the attacks in gory detail, all the while ignoring Potter's protests. Anakin could read their expressions clearly; anger, fear and disgust marked every face. Hans had everyone's rapt attention, including that of a dark haired boy that Anakin recognised immediately.

Tom stood among the older wizards with an intent, almost starry eyed look on his face. Anakin didn't know how long the other boy had been standing there bit it was obvious Tom was soaking up every word. Movement in the crowd informed Ani that Dumbledore had also spotted the young Slytherin and was on his way to intercept, even as the confrontation between Hadrian Potter and Hans Gruber seemed to have run its course.

Disgusted with Hans and the crowd's sheep-like reaction to him, Potter turned, and with a disgusted look, began making his way out of the crowd. On the podium, Hans was going on further about Muggle contamination but his eyes would lock on certain members of the crowd then to Potter's retreating back.

Catching this, Ani had a bad feeling develop in his gut as six men worked their way out of the crowd and began following the retreating figure. Looking between them and Professor Dumbledore, Ani made a decision and turned to follow. Along the way, he waved his hand at a store front and a walking stick from a pile that was leaning against the wall, leapt into his hand, unnoticed as the proprietor was probably in the crowd as well.

Not for the first time since his awakening, Anakin wished for his Sabre. More than just a weapon, it was part of him. Reminding himself that it was a situation he was going to fix soon as possible, he'd make do, for the moment, with a staff. At six feet in length it was a bit long for him at his current height and felt a bit flimsy. Still, it was a weapon of sorts and it looked like he'd need it if there was a fight. It seemed likely though as the number of thugs now following Potter had grown to eight.

Ani watched one of the men cast a spell with his wand, cutting off sound from around them. In the next moment, four of the others grabbed Potter roughly and forced him into a side alley between two buildings. The rest quickly followed, leaving one to guard the entrance. Moving swiftly, Ani made to go after them but was stopped by the guard.

"You can't go in there, boy," said the rough looking man with the same accent as Hans. "Run along and find your mother."

"You've had a change of heart," Anakin said while looking hard into the man's eyes. "You're going to find the nearest peace keeper and report what's going on in there."

An odd expression coming over his face, the thug blinked a couple times and said, "Excuse me, I have to go find an Auror."

With the man gone on his new found errand, Ani stepped into the shadows. As he entered the side alley, a tingle passed over his skin and sounds from Diagon Alley disappeared. Ahead, he saw Potter forced to his knees by two of the thugs while a third held what looked to be some kind of pistol on him. The remaining four stood with wands out but not pointed anywhere, obviously ready for action if their prisoner tried to escape.

"Why are you doing this?" growled Potter as he struggled against his captors.

"You and your ilk have been a thorn in or lord's side, protesting unification and protecting the mudbloods. Your influence has kept many from openly supporting our noble cause. With your death from a Muggle weapon however-"

There was an audible click as the thug pulled back the hammer on his weapon. Never ceasing to struggle, Potter kept his furious gaze locked on the main thug, refusing to look away or even close his eyes against his own execution. The others were watching eagerly, as it it was some great sport. It might have been for that reason alone that nobody noticed the shadowy figure that entered their little alley until he attacked.

Holding on to the last third of the staff, Ani leapt high into the air, bringing his make-shift weapon down like a headman's axe on the main thug's gun arm. The combined power of his momentum and force enhanced muscles shattered the thug's wrist, sending the gun skittering away, its round going harmlessly into the dirt. Before even touching the ground, Ani adjusted his grip to hold it properly and rammed the end into the main thug's throat.

Disabling the leader had taken all of two heartbeats, in that time, most people would have barely had time to register that something was amiss. These were soldiers, however and their actions were almost instantaneous. Unfortunately for them, it still wasn't fast enough.

Even as they raised their wands, Anakin was among them, he let go of his staff with one hand and thrust his palm toward two that were standing close together. He'd expected them to be thrown against the wall and they were; what he didn't expect was for them to land with such force that he could hear multiple bones snapping from the force of the push. The other two not occupied holding Potter raised their wands in that moment and fired a pair of curses at Ani. One fired a red beam that he was able to dodge easily, the other was a purple curse that he had to block.

Anakin brought his staff around with blinding speed and blocked the spell, his weapon, strengthened by the force, vibrated it his hands as it deflected the spell but didn't break. Using the momentum he'd built up with the block, Ani followed through, his weapon a blur, it barely slowed as it impacted on the first thug's cheek, sending the unfortunate wizard spinning to the ground unconscious. Still not done, Ani kicked the second on the inside of his knee, dropping the man like a sack of stones. Deeming the writhing man to be of no immediate danger, Ani turned to check on Potter and his assailants.

Hadrian had knocked one of the men to the ground during the skirmish and was now grappling with the second. While a wizard, Potter seemed more than capable of fighting in the Muggle style as he soundly punched his assailant three times, knocking him out. He was turning to face his last attacker, the one who he'd knocked down but had no time to react. The man had pulled his wand and was about to cast a spell when Ani, swinging the staff, again, like a giant sabre, struck him with killing force.

When their last attacker hit the ground bonelessly, Ani stumbled backward to rest his back against a wall, exhausted. He still wasn't recovered from his resurrection nor was he in proper condition yet. Letting go of the staff, he barely noticed when the overstressed wood simply disintegrated as it hit the ground. Potter, seeing him for the first time, hurried over as Ani slid to the ground.

"Are you alright, young man?"

"Yea," Ani muttered tiredly as his vision started to gray out, "I'm just not as old as I used to be."

* * *

There you go, another chapter out, Blind faith will be next,

R&R


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